


he who loves him gives him discipline

by miscellanium



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Aftercare, Agender Character, Author's Favorite, Collars, Complicated Relationships, Exhibitionism, Face Slapping, Hand Jobs, Leashes, Light Bondage, Loud Sex, Marking, Master/Pet, Multi, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Scarf Kink, Situational Humiliation, Subdrop, Subspace, Teasing, Threesome, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3734458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscellanium/pseuds/miscellanium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shingo's not sure how he ended up here, on his knees in front of Yuuya and Akaba with a dog collar around his neck, but, well.</p><p>[for the ygoanonmeme prompt "reiji/shingo or yuuya/shingo or both/threesome; shingo as the pet whichever ship it is, pretty much anything goes within the brackets of petplay"]</p>
            </blockquote>





	he who loves him gives him discipline

**Author's Note:**

> i use language i'm comfortable with but trans readers concerned about triggers should read with discretion.

Shingo's not sure how he ended up here, on his knees in front of Yuuya and Akaba with a dog collar around his neck, but, well. Something to do with how they'd all agreed it made more sense to hook up together rather than separately, right, then somewhere in there he'd been left out of the loop (he's starting to get the nagging feeling that happens more often than he's realized) which brought them to this, to Yuuya putting a hand on his arm and asking him to wear the collar on Akaba's desk, and—

His thoughts are interrupted by a mighty yank on his leash. "Did you hear what I said? You're not listening to me, are you." Yuuya's almost sneering and the sound rolls strange out of his mouth; he's putting on a show for Akaba, Shingo realizes, always the entertainer.

Which one of them had decided on this? Was it Akaba, from whom he'd expect these kind of things, or Yuuya, drawing on some unseen streak of darkne—

Yuuya wraps the leash fast around a fist and hauls Shingo up, making him scramble to try and get his feet under him. "You know what happens to disobedient dogs? They get disciplined."

Shingo scoffs, and he'd laugh at the absurd script but then Yuuya slaps him across the face and all he can do is touch his cheek and stare. Akaba shows no signs of intervening and just stands there in front of the windows, their expression hard to read with the sun behind them. All three of them are still clothed but under that steady gaze, in the middle of this austere office, Shingo feels as though he may as well be naked.

"Are you listening to me now?" Yuuya pulls until Shingo's forced to bend down and look up at him for once. After a beat Shingo nods and, satisfied, Yuuya slackens the leash.

"Back on your knees." Gritting his teeth, Shingo complies. "Good boy," Yuuya says, and contrived as the whole thing is Shingo still gets a warm rush from those words. He doesn't hear them often, much as he'd like to—and god would he like to. So now, he listens.

"Now," says Yuuya after glancing over at Akaba, "Promise me you won't use your hands."

"For—" Shingo gets just the one word out before seeing Yuuya's fingers tighten on the leash and falling silent.

"For anything. Well, you can walk on them, but that's about it. Will you do this for me, please?" he asks, and here's a more familiar Yuuya.

Shingo flips through a range of responses, all the while feeling like Akaba's trying to peel off his skin with their stare, before settling on: "And if I don't?"

The character mask settles back on and Yuuya leans in, teeth bared in a smile. "You'll be punished." Then he's stepping around and pulling off Shingo's jacket, forcing his arms behind him and grabbing his wrists in the process. Pinned like this Shingo can't help but tilt his head back, exposing his neck to Akaba; Yuuya kneels to rests his chin on Shingo's shoulder and slides his free hand up to find the shirt's zipper tab. He starts pulling slowly, the tab clicking loud over each metal tooth and his thumb dragging light down Shingo's chest, until he feels a shudder and chuckles.

Yuuya slips the shirt off, releasing Shingo's arms and pressing up against his back. Shingo's sure his heart is already pounding heavy enough to feel even if he can still control his breathing, then there's a hand on his jaw nudging his head around into a kiss—

Licking at Shingo's lips until he opens his mouth with a gasp, Yuuya slips a hand down his trousers and plucks at his briefs. The waistband's cutting into his hips from this but Shingo doesn't care; breathing hard into Yuuya's mouth he fumbles for his fly, ready to guide Yuuya's hand in deeper—

Akaba snaps their fingers and all of a sudden Shingo's left panting alone on the floor.

"Wh—"

"You used your hands," says Yuuya, standing over him once more with the leash in hand. "Dogs don't use their hands, remember? You promised. Apologize."

"But I—"

Yuuya jerks him forward onto all fours. "Not like that." Glancing over at Akaba again, he adds, "Like a dog."

Barking. Akaba wants Shingo to bark like a dog. Oh, it's Akaba's idea for sure, not Yuuya's, because even for entertainment he wouldn't go this far on his own. Shingo's tempted to just jump up and leave, put an end to this right now, but there's a certain power Akaba has that's all tangled up with his family and can he really afford to try and tug much harder at those knots?

So, hands knuckled into fists against the hard wood floor, he looks down and barks. He can't get more than one out, though, before his face starts pounding hot and his throat seizes up.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again," Shingo mutters, his teeth clenched. He sees Yuuya's sneakers move and braces for another blow but instead it's just a hand on his head, stroking gentle through his hair.

"Thank you. That was really good, Sawatari. You did well." Yuuya drops down to look him in the eyes, holding his chin, and somewhere between the old kindness in Yuuya's eyes and the praise he finds himself struggling to breathe, heart aching.

Then Yuuya's got his hands on Shingo's shoulders, pushing him backwards onto the floor, and he goes without resisting. Once he's laid flat Yuuya takes off his shoes and pulls down his trousers and briefs, tugging them over his knees and off his feet.

"Should I leave the socks on?"

Shingo opens his mouth but Akaba shakes their head; Yuuya wasn't asking him. From their new place perched on the long mahogany desk Akaba gestures for the socks to go and so they do. Once Shingo's stripped bare save for the collar still fastened tight round his neck Yuuya pulls on the leash and brings him to his feet. The air in here is cold, thermostat kept low year-round, and naked now he shivers.

As Yuuya presses bruises along Shingo's collarbones with every kiss and bite his hand follows the thin trail of dark hair from Shingo's belly button down to between his legs, fingers exploring but not entering. Akaba hasn't looked away once and there's just something different about being watched like this, about being put on display—Shingo's hands quiver at his sides, fingertips digging into his hips, while Yuuya rises up onto tiptoe and nips at his ears, licking a warm path back down his neck. When the other kid steps away he almost whimpers but then he's yanked forward again and loses his balance, throwing out his hands to break the fall.

"Come over here," says Yuuya, standing by the windows. "Like that." Shingo hesitates—the path'd take him right past Akaba, and to crawl under them wholly exposed—but Akaba moves away, leaning on the other end of the desk, so he swallows and heads over. With every swing of his rear he's sure Akaba can see just how wet he is already and, y'know what, they're looking at him for once, really looking at him—

Yuuya grabs his collar, hauling him to his feet, and shoves him up against the glass before kicking apart his legs. This high up nobody can see them but that doesn't stop the possibility from flashing through his mind. A news helicopter could pass by, perhaps, and catch sight of him, breath fogging up the window, legs spread wide, his nails scrabbling high on the glass while another set of hands roams his body. There's fingers tugging at the rim of Shingo's entrance, teasing, and this time he does whimper, pressing his face against the cool glass as he tries to thrust backwards onto Yuuya's hand only to get spanked hard.

Under his moans he can hear Akaba moving around, and now that he thinks about it they've been careful to keep their shadow out of sight; it occurs to him that maybe he's being recorded. Somehow, despite Akaba's penchant for surveilling everything, he'd thought that this at least might be different—but no. His skin prickles with embarrassment, a furious blush spreading splotchy from his ears and face to his chest, yet his hole throbs as though for the camera as Yuuya's fingers circle there once again and so he drops his head and raises his hips.

Yuuya pushes the firm heel of his other hand between Shingo's shoulder blades and pins him in place as he leans up and whispers, "Good boy." His voice's tender, wavering almost, like his on-stage manner has gone frayed at the edges.

Shingo shudders, groaning deep in his throat, and rubs his head against Yuuya's cheek—he nuzzles, he fucking nuzzles Yuuya like a dog and honestly he's done caring about how he looks. He is a good boy, he is, and if it means he'll hear those words of praise again he'll do whatever they ask, Yuuya and Akaba both.

If this is being recorded then that means anybody, no, _everybody_ can see just how good he is, just how deserving he is of real attention, so he needs to put on the best show he can for the cameras. He needs to entertain them. He rocks into Yuuya's hand, not trying to disobey and force anything but letting his clit slide between those soft fingers and gasping when Yuuya squeezes. Then Yuuya starts tugging, firm yet gentle, and a whine spills out of Shingo rising loud like a wail—

"Are you okay?" Yuuya pauses. In his peripheral vision Shingo can make out eyebrows raised in concern, a lower lip held between teeth: the playacting's gone. He tries to answer, stuttering, before just nodding hard and squirming against both points of pressure in answer. Laughing bright Yuuya gives him another spank, lighter this time, more playful. Being jacked off like this, held naked against a window with Akaba watching him fall apart—he's a slut, is what jolts through his mind, a complete slut begging for table scraps.

Then Akaba snaps their fingers once more. Yuuya grabs the dangling leash and yanks it between Shingo's legs, making him yelp; reeling away from the window he tries to swing a foot over the leash but loses his balance again, ending up on all fours.

"Get on the couch." It's the first time Akaba's spoken since this started and their voice sounds as cold as ever. No sign of interest, arousal, anything—but in their eyes, best as Shingo can see from the floor, is a certain sharpness that gives them away. He crawls beneath that striplight gaze to get to Yuuya and climb onto his lap, straddling one of his legs. The coarse green of Yuuya's cargo pants is rough against Shingo's throbbing clit but it doesn't matter because now there's a hand in between—

Akaba moves behind the couch and pulls off their scarf, their footsteps quiet enough Shingo doesn't even notice them until his hands are pulled behind Yuuya's head and his wrists bound together. The scarf's long enough to tie around his neck as well, he knows, but they don't do that this time. Instead they slide out of sight again, their interruption easily edited away. The scarf's not much of a restraint; it's more the feeling of the, what is that, silk? on Shingo's skin, and the idea of being further marked as property—

Yuuya's rubbing his clit now, circling hard and fast, but isn't teasing his hole like before and god, Shingo wants so bad to be fucked but it's just not going to happen, is it, so he starts thrusting against Yuuya's leg, humping him, and he must be leaving a wet spot but who cares he's close he's so close but the rhythm keeps changing and he could just _scream_ and that's what he does with his face buried in the crook of Yuuya's neck and fingers pulling hard at that mess of red and green hair—

A thrumming heat rips through Shingo's body and he seizes up, mouth open and teeth bared against Yuuya's skin, as he gushes all over Yuuya's leg. He's never done that without anything inside him but he's also never done anything quite like this and, fuck, Yuuya's still going—panting and shuddering he arches his back and pulls Yuuya with him as he yowls, this time soaking the couch beneath.

"Good boy," Yuuya mumbles, voice barely audible, and holds him like this, bent over and supporting him until his breath stops coming so quick he might pass out. Once both their hearts have slowed a bit Yuuya leans back and shifts Shingo off so they're next to each other, arms pressed together. Shingo sits there breathing hard with his eyes closed, head resting against the couch, so Yuuya kisses him light on the cheek then slips off to kneel between his legs, hands running up his inner thighs. They've established before that this doesn't mean Shingo's finished; he needs more, almost always needs more, so now Yuuya's got his tongue right there in—

"Make him stand." The words land heavy, shattering the endorphin fog, and the two of them open their eyes. Akaba's leaning on the desk again, arms crossed, and the light reflecting off their glasses makes their face unreadable but their fingertips have gone white against their dark blue sleeves.

Yuuya's the one who hesitates this time but Shingo takes a deep juddering breath and pushes himself to his feet; he's gone, just gone, brain long since kicked into a gear where he's unable to think of anything besides pleasing his handlers. Akaba's nod is as good as spoken praise and that's all it takes to make him moan, Yuuya hasn't even touched him yet, and oh fuck now Yuuya's trailing his mouth up Shingo's thigh and nosing at the dark hair and—

Shingo reaches out to grab Yuuya's head for support but all of a sudden Akaba's there undoing the scarf and retying his wrists together behind him so he's forced to try and bear his own weight as his knees go wobbly from the hot wet suction around his clit and the tongue lapping at his entrance and _dammit_ Akaba's looped the leash into the knot so he has to keep his head back or the collar starts choking him and Yuuya's grabbing his ass and oh no is he getting tonguefucked now oh god he is and now there's fingers and there's a fucking electrical storm tearing through him and he's screaming again—

Writhing and bucking against Yuuya's face Shingo finally comes and Yuuya holds him tight through it, laughing into him with delight.

Exhausted, breath ragged, he collapses loose-limbed onto the couch where he's joined by Yuuya and pulled into a hug. Then his wrists are unbound and there's a cool hand lifting up his chin; Akaba kisses him hard until his lower lip splits, like a mark of ownership, then kisses Yuuya with their bloody mouth. Yuuya pushes into the kiss, challenging rather than accepting, the two of them testing each other. The rhythm of it looks ritualized and from the way Yuuya's nails dig into Shingo's skin there's usually more to this struggle.

Then Akaba pulls away and says to Shingo, “You did well." In the small curve of their smile is a kind of respect he hasn’t seen there before and the touch of their hand on his skin is borderline tender. “I’ll be right back.”

He can hear Akaba open the door to request towels and robes from Nakajima, who must have been there all along and heard everything, yet in this haze it doesn’t really register. A part of him knows he’ll remember later and isn’t sure how he’ll feel then but here, in this moment, Yuuya’s got his head in his lap and is stroking his hair and face so he feels safe, comfortable, like a pet protected by its owner. His teeth are slick with the taste of copper.

And now Shingo's dropping, the signs obvious and familiar: his mind is still running slow but his body is going cold and there's a funny feeling growing in the back of his throat so he sits up, keeping Yuuya's arm around his shoulders, and leans into him. Akaba returns and drapes a robe over Shingo then sets themselves down next to him, handing him a water bottle before putting an arm across the back of the couch without quite touching either of the other kids. The gesture's not meant to comfort and he's learned not to ask for more but the routine of it is reassuring nonetheless. Yuuya rubs a thumb idly on his skin, almost instinctive, and the intimacy of it feels strange with Akaba sitting there, studying them.

"You don't need to do this," he mumbles.

Akaba doesn't say anything, of course, but Yuuya raises his eyebrows. "I want to." It's almost imperceptible but now that Shingo's focus is beginning to resharpen he realizes that Yuuya's shaking slightly, just like him. "We've never done anything like this before."

Shingo makes a quiet noise of disagreement and Yuuya's hands stop. He glances over at Akaba before tightening his grip, and Shingo has a vague sense of having revealed something he didn't mean to but then Yuuya's rubbing him again and he lets it go.

He wants to say something more to Yuuya, something about the incredible high still rolling through his veins or the way this friendship of theirs is spilling over into a deeper well, but with sleep crashing down on him and the cadence of Yuuya's hands massaging a lullaby into his body any words he can think of just vanish as soon as he tries stringing them together. Even if he wakes up alone there'll be other times, other chances, and so Shingo closes his eyes and drifts off with the weight of both of them real against him, supporting him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading. please leave kudos and/or comments if you can, they mean a lot to me


End file.
